The Princess and the Bard (Royals of the Realms #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: 'I Love Her More.'

Sleep was elusive. 

Alori had retired early, shortly after her father dropped her in front of her apartments, but she couldn't relax. Mental exhaustion wore her thin but refused to release its hold. She tossed back and forth on her disheveled sheets for countless hours, thoughts of Taelan harassing her at every tangled turn.

Was he asleep? Had he spoken to Reeve or Yuka after their conversation in the pleasance?

Was he serious about letting her go?

She sat up, leaning into the mountain of pillows at the head of her bed. It was the dead of night. The fire in the hearth smoldered, but her room was still warm from enchantments maintained by the palace's mageservants. It was nothing Alori couldn't do herself, but it was convenient to not have to.

She turned down her blanket, reaching across her bed to the lamp on the nightstand. Using a tongue of mageflame, she lit the oil burner, rolling down the wick until the flame dwindled to a safe height. With tears in her eyes she reached into the top drawer of the nightstand and extracted the silver collar. It was cool in her trembling hands. She traced the curved shape of it with a fingertip, like she used to do while sitting on her mother's lap, pressing her finger against the semi-sharp point where the necklace had once lain flush against the queen's sternum.

When Alori had first discovered the collar was her inheritance, Liahfey had been green with envy. Their mother had promised to pass down heirlooms of equal beauty to her younger daughters, but the ever-stylish second princess had been adamant that nothing could match the significance of the matrimonial collar. And holding it in her hands now, Alori had to agree.

What was she supposed to do? Taelan had returned the necklace, assuming she no longer wanted him to give it to her, but her feelings were more complicated than answers in black and white. Her stomach twisted into knots just thinking about Taelan's disturbing confession, gross images running rampant in her mind with no purpose but to torment her. And yet, the longer the night wore on, minutes lengthening into restless hours, her raw rage and disbelief stagnated into a kind of despairing sympathy.

What Roja did to Taelan, taking advantage of his determination and naivete, was indefensible. Alori had half a mind to march downstairs and find his room, grab him by his sleeve and parade him to the witch's door, simply so she could sneer in the hag's face and gloat that Roja hadn't won. But that awful desire may have been the scariest development of all. A vengeful side within Alori had awakened, a sharp and angry streak of pure hatred. Such powerful negative emotion was dangerous in the Shieldmaker's hands.

Taelan wasn't a prize to be shown off, he was a man with his own thoughts and needs. If she treated him like an object, how was she any better than Roja?

But how could she forgive him...? All this time, for years, his memories of her had been filled with falsehoods. His hands had touched another woman wearing her skin, whether he'd hated himself for it or not. 

Could their love overcome such a steep obstacle? Was there enough empathy in Alori's heart to rise above the aching pain?

One could argue it was destiny that had brought them together eleven years ago, a spark of hope burning on the darkest night of their lives. Alori regretted that she'd never remember meeting Taelan that first time; and it agonized her, knowing how fate had corrupted his route back to her all these years later. But she was still luckier than most. She hadn't expected to find love at the Conservatory, she'd even convinced herself she didn't need a love match. But her father was right, there was a reason she'd fallen for her raven-haired bard. Regardless of his past, Taelan was a good man, and she didn't doubt he would make a fine bard prince.